Spring Cleaning
by Verbs Everywhere
Summary: The Doctor and Clara go through some of the Doctor's old belongings and Clara makes an interesting discovery.


Clara heaved another box out from beneath the console and sighed pointedly. "You know, when a man in a bow tie invited me to travel all of time and space with him, I was imagining a little more visiting other planets and a little less spring cleaning."

"Well, it's got to be done sometime," the Doctor muttered absentmindedly as he opened a box containing some old books. "It's always spring somewhere." He picked one up and turned it over delicately. "Where should I file this...?"

Clara opened her box and found it to be filled with a tangle of metal gadgets. "I don't know how much help I'm being. I don't exactly know where all your stuff should go." She picked up an odd-looking device. The handle at the top turned limply downward. "Come to think of it, I don't know what half of your stuff is."

Doctor turned around. "Oh, that's-!" The Doctor sat next to Clara. "It's a heat generator. Turn the bit at the top-look, keep your hand there..." He put his hand over Clara's, moving it to a grip at the base of the device. "And turn the handle up top, go on."

Clara started turning the handle. "What's supposed to be happening?"

"Bit faster. You'll feel it."

Feeling a little nervous, Clara kept turning. "This isn't going to shock me or anything, is it?" But before he could respond, she felt it. A warmth spread throughout her body, like being surrounded by heaters. Or campfires. Her eyes widened, and a grin spread across her face.

The Doctor smiled along with her. "Cool, isn't it?"

"Yeah!" She laughed.

"That's what I like about spring cleaning," the Doctor continued. "Sometimes you find things you forgot you had." He picked up a stuffed panda and smiled at it fondly.

Clara reached back into the box and pulled out another object. "What about this?"

The Doctor looked up, and his eyes widened. "Oh, no, don't touch that..."

Clara put the item down, suddenly unnerved. The Doctor hadn't spoken harshly, but he sounded a bit anxious. It wasn't like him. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Sorry, it's not dangerous..." And just to show her, he picked the object up. He was suddenly aware that he hadn't held it since the day its previous owner had died.

Now that she knew it wasn't dangerous, Clara felt that it was safe to look at the object a little more closely. Its shape was somewhat familiar, she realized. "Is that...a sonic screwdriver?"

"No. Well, sort of. Laser screwdriver."

It wasn't fair, the Doctor thought, to make a comment like that without demonstrating the laser part immediately afterward. He clicked the control experimentally. But of course it didn't work.

Clara cocked her head. "Is something supposed to be happening?"

"Supposed to, yeah." The Doctor pointed up to the ceiling. "Try a beam of light, a WHHZZG!-and a burn mark right about there."

"Wow." Clara took a moment to question the fact that she was traveling with a man who would subject his ceilings to that kind of thing. Then, she pushed the thought aside. "So, that's what's supposed to be happening."

"Right."

"But it's not."

"Right."

"O-kay..." Clara looked back at the screwdriver. "Is there anything that it actually does do?"

"Well...no," the Doctor admitted as he passed the screwdriver to his other hand. "It hasn't worked in a long time."

Clara frowned, disappointed. "You know, when you said it wasn't dangerous, I didn't think you meant it was _broken_."

"It's not broken!" The Doctor scowled and gripped the screwdriver defensively. "It just doesn't work for me, that's all."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean it doesn't work for me." He clicked the control again. "It's isomorphic, which means it only works for one person-some of the TARDIS's controls are isomorphic," he added, gesturing back to the console with the screwdriver.

"Mm-hm." Then a thought occurred to Clara. "Did you steal that?"

"What? No!"

Clara cocked her head and smiled mischievously. "Are you sure?"

The Doctor relented. "What makes you say that?

Clara shrugged. "Well, if it only works for certain people, then only certain people are supposed to have it, right? Which means you must have stolen it from certain people."

"Good deduction..."

The Doctor looked back at the screwdriver, lost in thought. It wasn't really his fault that he'd had to steal it. He couldn't very well have run the risk of someone on Earth finding it. Even if it was useless, it was better that it had stayed with him.

"Am I right?"

The Doctor looked up. "Hm?"

"Did you steal it?"

"Well, sort of...Because the thing is, the only person it worked for, he, well...he died."

"Oh." Clara looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "Was he...a friend of yours?"

The Doctor held the screwdriver in front of his face, examining his reflection in the hilt. "No," he said finally.

Clara knew that there was something the Doctor wasn't telling her. There always was. But she'd resigned herself to the fact. The Doctor was a thousand years old, after all, and if there were a few things that he didn't want to tell her, then so be it. Even if they'd become very close since they'd been traveling together.

"Anyway!" The Doctor put the screwdriver in his pocket. "What's next?"

"Whatever this is." Clara reached back into her box, picking up something that looked like a retrofitted radio.

"My timey-wimey detector!" The Doctor smiled. "I had to make that from scratch when I was trapped in the 1960s."

"Oh, yeah, that time when I was trapped in the 1960s..." Clara laughed. "Just another day at the office, huh?"

"Well, that's how my life works, Clara. Nothing's ever boring." He put his hand back in his pocket. "Not even spring cleaning."


End file.
